


To be Queen

by Spirit_Howl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Mentions of canon deaths, Multi, Other, non-binary characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:52:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5439113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spirit_Howl/pseuds/Spirit_Howl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victoire is jealous of the Muggle queen's eight birthdays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To be Queen

I wish I were queen. Not because I want the power, I’m not a Slytherin, thank you very much. Nor because I want the fortune: as a Weasley, I know that other things, such as love, are far, far more important. No, I want one of her birthdays. The muggle queen of the United Kingdom has eight birthdays. I know this, because we learnt about her in Muggle Studies in my third year. Surely she could spare one? Mine is no good to me.

Teachers, on seeing my birthday in the register for the first time will make such comments as ‘I see you are aptly named, Miss Weasley,’ or ‘such an auspicious birthday, you must be proud’ and expect me to nod and smile gratefully, when all I can think to do is curse the fates for deciding I should be born on that date. Don’t get me wrong, I am as happy as anyone that the 2nd of May saw the final defeat of Voldemort, but to have that date as your birthday is such a heavy burden to bear.

On a selfish level, nobody wants to celebrate my existence when they could be out, sharing in the revelry surrounding the anniversary. However, the biggest problem with my birthday is one that’s hardly ever mentioned. People don’t want to remember that people died on that day. For those who lost loved ones in the Battle of Hogwarts, May 2nd remains bittersweet at best. 

Granny Weasley tries her best, I know, but I remember the tears on my 8th birthday, as she struggled to forget that it was also the tenth anniversary since the death of my uncle Fred. Uncle George doesn’t even bother to pretend, and I am grateful. He told me recently that since the 2nd of May 1998, he has been unable to produce a patronus, because all of his good memories from before involved Fred, and all his best memories since should have done. When he married Auntie Angelina, it should have been Fred stood beside him, not Lee. When my cousin Fred was born, he should have been given a different name, because that would have meant my uncle was still alive and did not need commemorating. Uncle Fred should have been Roxanne’s godfather. Uncle George should not have been mine. It should have been a friend, perhaps a colleague from Gringotts, but when I was born, two years to the day since Voldemort was defeated, Maman and Dad decided to offer Uncle George the position, so that he would have a good memory to associate with that date. As much as we adore each other, it can only be said to have half-worked at best. I accept that he will always be sad on my birthday, and the rest of the year he is the best uncle and godfather a girl could have wished for. He was the first of the family to figure out how I felt about Teddy, and he helped smooth things over when Dad found out his fifteen-year-old daughter was dating someone two years older, reminding Dad that he was seven years older than Maman, who had only just left school when they started seeing each other.

Teddy doesn’t celebrate my birthday either. How could they, when it is also the date on which they lost both their parents in one fell swoop, at only one month old? Mrs. Tonks made sure Teddy learnt all about her only child, first through bedtime stories and pictures, then as Teddy grew older, through open discussion. Uncle Harry would console Teddy when they felt they didn’t deserve to mourn parents they never knew. Harry would also tell him what he remembered about Remus, as a person as well as the mischief of his schooldays, but gaps remained. Teddy had no-one to tell him what his father did or how he kept going in his ‘lost years’, between the end of the first war when he thought he had lost everyone he held dear, and the year he started teaching at Hogwarts. Tonks should have been alive to help Harry run the Auror department and his father should have been present to collect his Order of Merlin. Remus Lupin, had he been alive today, could have helped Aunt Hermione with rehabilitating the image of werewolves, he should have been alive to reclaim his rightful place as Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts. Maybe he would have also been appointed Head of Gryffindor House, and perhaps when McGonagall retired, he could have taken her place as Hogwarts’ head-teacher. If not for the events of the 2nd of May, Teddy could have gone to Tonks for support and guidance when they realised that they didn’t identify as strictly male. Tonks would have been able to reassure them with a laugh, asking him in a conspiratorial whisper ‘do you think I’m wholly female, Teddy? Even when I can do this?’ before turning into a man, but retaining the same sparkling dark eyes that were unmistakably them. Instead, Teddy spent years hiding, ashamed of their true self, until they tearfully confessed to me after I caught them trying on my clothes. I had to be the one to persuade them to talk to their grandmother, pointing out that she had accepted Tonks as they were, and so would be highly unlikely to reject them for feeling the same. Tonks should have crowed in delight on finding out that Teddy had been placed in Hufflepuff, and Remus would have cried tears of joy on the day Teddy was made Co-Head Prefect (because McGonagall listened when they told her about non-binary gender identities).

So when I came of age last year, I made the decision that that would be the last birthday I celebrated. If the date caused two of the people I loved most in the world such pain, then it could not be a cause for celebration. But everybody has a birthday, don’t they? So I would like the option, like the queen, of multiple birthdays. I could retain May 2nd for Mamy and Papy Delacour, for Tatie Gabrielle and my cousins, because the war did not have the same all-consuming impact in France as it did here. But for the sake of my British family, I would like a different birthday, one untainted by the iron smell of death.


End file.
